Thou In Faith
by eidolondestroyer
Summary: Before the Humans, before Halo, the Elites and Prophets fought a costly and bitter war. Yet somehow, through this divisive war came the union of the Covenant.
1. Prologue

A Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form own or claim to own any part of _Halo_ or _Halo 2_. All the characters, worlds, and other such content is the intellectual property of Bungie. The entirety of the following is meant solely for entertainment purposes, and is not intended for any fiscal or other such gains.  
**An Author's Note** (hopefully the only one I'll ever need)- There, I've satisfied all the lawyers (I hope).  
REALLY IMPORTANT- For the purposes of more accurately looking into the Covenant species, they are referred to by their Covenant names. Thus, the Elites are now the Sangheili, and the Prophets, well, I just never refer to their species' name. Don't want you getting all confused, wondering "Where are the Elites? And who are these Sangheili chaps?"

**Thou in Faith  
**_Prologue_

_So full of hate were our eyes  
That none of us could see  
Our war would yield countless dead  
But never victory  
-_From the First Canto of the Covenant Writ of Union

_21 Earth years before the formation of the Covenant, in a temple of the species that would go on to become known as the "Prophets"…_

The Lesser Oracle of Ironic Justice hovered respectfully behind his superior. He rather admired the technology of the hovering chair. Still in the experimental stages, it had an awful tendency to wobble in the air, which filled the Oracle with a not inconsiderable amount of nausea. However, the chair held the delicate frame of his body quite comfortably, and it surely was better than sliding along the ground, forcing his tender feet to be worn down by the highly ceremonial, but lamentably jagged stone floor. To imagine any part of his beautiful skin being torn up, even the least visible parts of it on his feet, was an absolutely unbearable thought!

And the Lesser Oracle of Ironic Justice did pride himself on his skin. Still resplendent in young salmon tones, it made the Oracle quite attractive among his species. The Oracle was also assured that his slender, leathery neck, and deep, glassy jet black eyes fulfilled the requisites to be considered a desirable partner. If only he had the elaborate headdress of a Greater Oracle to crown his head. Then none could resist him. Alas, his ambition and focus had not yet led him to such glory among his species. Yet, becoming a confidant of the Higher Oracle of Tragedy was certainly a step in the right direction.

The Lesser Oracle studied his elder. And the Higher Oracle was quite the elder. His skin had long faded to dull gray tones, and his black eyes had gone equally dull. His skin was horrifically wrinkled, with numerous liver spots developing on his neck. Perhaps worst of all, he was clouded in the morbid stench of age. There were rumors that he was as old as the ancient temple they walked in, which had seen sixteen generations of Oracles pass through its halls. No commoners though. The gods forbid the lowly filth ever taint such a structure.

Even in age, however, the Higher Oracle of Tragedy still held an unmistakable aura of power. Perhaps it was the foot tall headdress of the Higher Oracle, a beautifully crafted golden substance that mimicked the shape of the temple they walked through, a splendidly simple spiraling tower. On most, it would have looked outright silly. But on the Higher Oracle of Tragedy, there was a strong dignity. The Lesser Oracle mused that his superior's strength could stem from some innate quality.

The Lesser Oracle had just about figured out this quality when his hovering chair suddenly dipped in the air, the left edge of the bottom grazing the stone floor. The Lesser Oracle shook with a great jolt and scrambled to get his chair level. When he finally did so, the Higher Oracle of Tragedy allowed himself to laugh briefly. The deep and rumbling noise held almost as much gravity as levity. The Lesser Oracle found himself leaning in towards his elder, forgetting his mishap and wishing to hear his superior speak. The Higher Oracle of Tragedy did not disappoint.

"It is quite a remarkable thing, what you have done. Hardly you have come of age, yet already you hold the position of a Lesser Oracle. Most cannot attain that position until halfway in the bloom of their life." The Lesser Oracle, captivated by the melodic bass tones, almost forgot to reply with the proper respects.

"I am humbled by your praise, venerable Elder. I only hope that being appointed to my station so young will allow me to serve my brethren all the better."

"An appropriate response, albeit filled with insincere formalities." The Lesser Oracle's eyes shot open in shock. "Do not pretend that you hope to serve. You think of other things, my young associate. And you hardly respect my age. You revile it. What you respect…" A pause for effect. "What you respect is my position, and the power that comes with it.

"But do not fear, young one. I will not begrudge you for your ambition. To the contrary, I would settle for nothing less in a Greater Oracle." The Lesser, or perhaps now Greater Oracle of Ironic Justice perked up. "However, I would caution you to beware that ambition. You _are_ an Oracle or _Ironic_ Justice. It would only make it all the more fitting that you who climb the ladder so fast slip and fall back to the earth. Back to the common rabble you so despise."

"I would like to think I consider the future enough to avoid such a demise."

"Keep your eyes planted on the future, and the present will tear you apart. If your own chair can catch you unaware, what hopes do you have of fending off those who would do you harm?" The still Lesser Oracle of Ironic Justice recoiled in shame at the remark. And the Higher Oracle simply laughed. "Do not concern yourself too much with my words. You are still young. And I, I am long since past the point when my spirit must embark towards its final destination. What could I possibly know?"

"You know much, great elder. Your knowledge is myriad, and your wisdom…"

"My wisdom and knowledge have decayed where my body should have. Now, I know but one thing, and my wisdom tells me but one thing." The Lesser Oracle could not help but lean in as far as he could, hanging on the Higher Oracle's words.

"And what, dear elder, is that?"

"War is coming to us. Or rather, we are bringing war to others."

"Others?"

"The great Beasts of the forest. The Sangheili."

"Those creatures? Impossible! We are far better off leaving them to wallow in their filth."

"Yet we will bring war to them. For you see, _Greater_ Oracle of Tragedy..." The newly minted Greater Oracle beamed with pride. Not only was he a Greater Oracle, he was of the higher Temple of Tragedy. This was a magnificent day. A splendid day! Perhaps the best of his life! But, the Greater Oracle of Tragedy diverted enough attention from his ego to listen to the Higher Oracle finish his prophecy. "We will have little choice to war with them. After all…" The Higher Oracle paused and allowed himself a most maleficent smile, and the Greater Oracle of Tragedy shuddered as he looked upon the chilling countenance.

"You will die by the Sangheili."

The Greater Oracle of Tragedy's day was noticeably soured.


	2. Chapter I

**An Author's Note:** First, I apologize that I've put this thing in here. I'm really hoping this will be the last one (with the exception of some possible closing remarks when I'm finished, you know, reflections). Now then:  
Basically, while I've already done a fair amount of research on the Covenant and its history, I certainly don't know everything that's been put out there, nor do I have detailed descriptions of Covenant anatomy. Therefore, if you notice an issue, by all means mention it specifically, and, if you could be so kind, maybe put a link to some Covenant info. Why? Because _I am dedicated to this fic_. And, as I would really like to present the best experience my meager writing skills can provide, I therefore would absolutely love it if I kept my inaccuracies down to a handful.

And to address your concerns, Spartan 76, if that is your real name, while you did catch me on the Prophets having legs issue (at the time of this update there has been a revision to the prologue for accuracy), tragically, you have not, in fact, caught me messing with the strands of time. As is noted in the prologue, the event took place 21 years before the formation of the Covenant, not 21 years before Halo. In other words, there is no solid year. Just thought I'd clarify that. As to why only the first half of the First Canto, that was for effect. You'll see.

I hate myself for having rambled on for so long.

**Thou In Faith**  
_Chapter I_

Steady and inevitable as the tides. Years had come. Years had gone. The Greater Oracle of Tragedy ascended higher and higher, until finally he became the Celestial Oracle of Tragedy, greatest oracle in all his temple. But no satisfaction ever came with the ascensions. Always there was fear. Fear for the life. Paranoia. For the Celestial Oracle of Tragedy _knew_. Yet, fear hardly causes weakness. To the contrary, it is when a beast is cornered that it strikes the hardest…

_2 Earth years before the formation of the Covenant..._

Zyar Mortumee stamped his hoof into the soft soil, bracing for the impact. A most fearsome beast slammed into his flank, but he somehow managed to hold his ground. He didn't dare allow himself any satisfaction with that feat, however, for all Sangheili warriors knew the danger of losing focus when battling the leaf dragon.

Zyar had cursed his luck when he stumbled upon the beast. In all the forest, no beast was as ferocious, as powerful, as cunning as the leaf dragon. Except for the Sangheili, of course. Still, even a Sangheili warrior knew it was best not to battle the creatures. The long, slender body of the quadruped was covered in impossibly hard scales, and the leaf dragon was armed with four-inch long claws that could rend armor. Not to mention a highly venomous bite. Unfortunately, those scales were a shade of green that perfectly matched the forest canopy, hence the name 'leaf dragon', so it was quite easy to unwittingly happen upon one of the carnivores. And, as was Zyar's luck, he had found one that was guarding its nest. Those leaf dragons were most aggressive in protecting their territory.

It was not all one-sided though. For Zyar _was_ a Sangheili. More importantly, he was a warrior. Hardly the best warrior, he had actually descended from the far inferior worker caste. But he was most exceptional for his caste. Standing almost two feet above his former brethren, he was still short for a warrior at eight feet and an inch. Nor were his muscles the glorious steel bands of his comrades. However, he was a most adept swordsman, and few warriors could match the finesse of his blade, something which would help a great deal in fighting a beast he couldn't hope to overpower. It would be challenging, for sure, but Zyar Mortumee absolutely loved challenges.

The leaf dragon growled in a final warning to him. The tackle had essentially been the first warning, a threat of what would happen if the Sangheili did not remove himself from the leaf dragon's territory. Unfortunately, hopefully for the leaf dragon and not Zyar, to run from a fight was a most cowardly act. The cardinal sin of a warrior, and the highest violation of the Forefathers' Creed, the oath of all Sangheili warriors.

Zyar flexed his hand on the grip of his sword, the traditional weapon of all Sangheili warriors. Two thin metal blades descended from either side of the grip, and at the other end the blades ended in rather cruel hooks that could badly mangle any creature misfortunate enough to experience their bite. The weapon had gone unchanged for centuries, a testament to the brutal efficiency and lethal perfection of its design. The dense metals made the blade quite heavy, yes, and it was very ungainly in the hands of anyone inexperienced with it. But for those who spent their lives perfecting their technique with it, the weapon guaranteed doom for all but the toughest opponents. For example, the leaf dragon.

And the beast, tired of waiting for the intruding warrior to leave of his own will, chose that moment to attack. Powerful double-jointed hind legs propelled the leaf dragon forward at its enemy. Zyar met the creature with a slashing blow from his blade. The sword failed to even chip the leaf dragon's scales, but the sheer force of the blow diverted the dragon's trajectory, causing him to land behind and to the right of Zyar. The Sangheili seized the initiative and whirled about, bringing his blades down on the leaf dragon's head in an impaling strike. Again, the attack failed to pierce the leaf dragon's scales, but it did cause the dragon to back off, allowing Zyar time to adopt a stronger defensive stance.

The leaf dragon glowered at Zyar as it circled him. The creature's meager intelligence attempted to determine how best to kill this intruder. This new opponent seemed a worthy enough foe that attempts to kill it outright with the leaf dragon's claws would probably be ineffective. A minor injury, however, from the venomous fangs could perhaps serve to bring the warrior down.

Even as the leaf dragon plotted its attack, however, Zyar's far more ample intelligence created a battle plan to deal with the beast. When finally he knew what to do, he allowed himself a smile and raised his blade in challenge to the beast.

The leaf dragon answered the challenge with a rush on Zyar, this time keeping low to the ground to avoid being batted aside as it had in its previous attack. The beast's jaws hung open slightly, prepared to deliver the fatal bite. But Zyar was not a willing victim. He simply leapt straight over the beast, his blade grazing the leaf dragon's scales as it passed under Zyar. He landed firm on the ground and sprung forward, his blade outstretched in a thrust attack. The leaf dragon had already turned about to face Zyar and snapped its jaws in warning of what would happen if Zyar came to close. No matter. The Sangheili planted his left hoof into the ground, canceling the motion and leaping to the right before delivering a sweeping slash against the leaf dragon's flank. Yet again, the leaf dragon suffered no injury, but Zyar had hardly hoped for such a thing. The true purpose of the attack was, however, accomplished.

The leaf dragon, enraged with this intruder who had repelled its assaults and had indeed landed several blows, leapt at Zyar with all the might it could muster. And Zyar allowed himself some fraction of a smile. Yes, he could never hope to gain the power necessary to pierce the leaf dragon's armor of scales.

The leaf dragon, on the other hand, was most gifted in this aspect.

Zyar dropped to the ground, putting his blade up at an angle. As the doomed leaf dragon leapt over Zyar, its underside crashed onto the blade. Zyar, with the ground beneath him bracing his body, held the blade firm as the leaf dragon's momentum caused the Sangheili sword to pierce into its underbelly. As the leaf dragon continued to pass over Zyar, the wound grew longer and longer as more of its underside was cut open. When it finally landed back on the ground, it did so with a dull thump. The beast growled faintly in agony, and Zyar knew at once that the wound was fatal. He turned over onto his stomach to see the creature staggering, hoping to mount a final attack. Its life was spent, but it still had to think of its nest. The beast gave a most valiant effort at it, but its injury was far too severe. It gave one last look at Zyar, and had the Sangheili not known better, he would have sworn the beast was pleading with him not to harm its young.

And then it died.

Zyar lifted himself up off the ground, exuberant with his triumph. Even some of the higher-ranking Sangheili could not slay a leaf dragon. All the more proof that Zyar was a most exceptional specimen.

The Sangheili warrior split his four mandibles in some approximation of a grin, and decided that he would keep this beast as a trophy.

----------------------

Watching Zyar behind the screen of the forest was yet another hunter. Peering through a scope at an electronically magnified image of the Sangheili, he studied the warrior intensely. The battle had been impressive, to be sure. Too bad the great forest beasts were so quaint. _The same blade. Four centuries and it's the exact same blade._ The 26th Infantrymen of the 3rd regiment of the Tragic Oracle Guard (a most unwieldy title, to be sure, but titles were all his species had), or 26-3-T, for those too disrespectful, impatient, or powerful to bother uttering his name in its entirety, did not hold the forest beasts in high regard. Nay, what use was such a primitive species doing on _his_ planet anyway? Bothersome savages.

Yet here he was, studying one of the primitive beasts through his gloriously technologically advanced sniper's scope. To think, the forest beasts were still using basic glass optical enhancement technology. Oh, they were truly missing out on the joy that was staring through a scope displaying in 255 mega pixels!

But enough of that. The point was he was stuck watching these miserable creatures. What had he done? Was the Noble Oracle of Tragedy somehow displeased with him? He hadn't even met the Oracle before the assignment! Perhaps that was the problem. He was told by the 4th Special Infantry of the 7th regiment of the Moral Oracle Guard, his good friend (friends naturally being people who could get you to higher status, for what else did friends do?), that he lacked communication skills. Maybe had he been more aggressive, gone ahead and talked to his master? But, that would have been highly disrespectful to someone of such high status! Woefully unprofessional. So what was he to do? Maybe…

No! No, no, no, no, no, no! He had allowed himself to get off task again! _This _was why he was stuck here, observing some quaint novelty of a species. 26-3-T imagined that when he became an Oracle, he would capture one of the Sangheili, maybe teach it to do tricks? Although to do such a thing, he would undoubtedly have to settle for being an Oracle of Levity. He shuddered at the thought.

Damn it all! Again, he had lost focus. He swore, one day his commander would catch him like this, and…

Wait. 26-3-T refocused long enough and peered again through the scope. Something wasn't right. Something was, well, missing.

Something tapped 26-3-T on the shoulder. He turned around, and had just enough time to realize he'd lost track of the Sangheili before that damn primitive blade sliced through his neck.

----------------------

A lone figure walked through the mob of Sangheili warriors. As he walked, the mob instantly separated before him, before his presence. An intimidating presence, even though he was at least two inches shorter than most warriors. A powerful presence, even though his build was not massive, but instead streamlined. He was old for a warrior, but very few would dare to believe his age crippled him. None would dare to challenge him. For he wore the armor.

Stylistically, it was similar to all Sangheili armor. Highly flexible jointed armor plates covered his legs, and his torso was also armored in the same fashion as all other Sangheili, with the back entirely protected but a massive gap left down the center of the armor. Yet, he did not have armor covering his arms, for they needed to be entirely free of burden in their work of guiding his blade. Nor did he wear a helm, for it would be a disgrace to him if any weapon came near his head, and he would rather die than live with the shame. To that matter, on the back of his armor, a highly ceremonial armor crafted from matte black metal alloys, there was a simple engraving, which had been filled with ashen gray metals. The engraving was quite incomprehensible to most Sangheili, for only the highest-ranking warriors were taught the sacred tongue of the Forefathers. But even those who did not know, were they to look at the glyphs, linked together in a beautiful artistry, they would still suspect, looking at the great figure wearing the armor, as to their meaning. Honor.

He was Antares. He was the Eternal Knight of the Sangheili.

----------------------

Antares passed through the crowd with little trouble. Some of the Sangheili he passed he recognized as warriors, who gave a slight bow and watched him pass in venerable silence. Others were no doubt of the worker caste; clamoring and yelling to see, perhaps even greet the honorable warrior. Though he held all Sangheili in very high esteem, for they were all truly part of a greater family, he held in great disdain this sort of commotion. Indeed, even the workers were of his family, but it was the more honorable silence of the warriors that made them all his brothers. He passed each one with a respectful nod, and they simply bowed in respect to the great warrior. And the workers? Well, many simply presumed he was in fact acknowledging them, and would go home and tell their tales of this day. Antares was not bothered by this in the slightest. No, to be held in such high esteem should be nothing but an honor.

Antares finally passed through all of the crowd, and slipped through an entrance, guarded heavily by Sangheili warriors, into a bustling hive of activity. Most Sangheili there stopped to greet the elder warrior, but few showed quite the same respect, as they were in quite a hurry. These bustling bodies were the staff aides to the Sangheili Assemblymen. Each needed to bring messages or run errands for their Assemblyman, and they naturally needed to do it all quite quickly, so as not to lose favor with their powerful employers.

The Hall of the Assembly was a highly impressive structure, albeit quite gaudy. The entire structure was rectangular in shape. A hundred stone pillars, one for each of the Assemblymen, hung close to three of the walls, but not the fourth, which was unobstructed so that when one looked upon the Chair of the Assembly, their eyes would not stray towards the pillars. The pillars soared up to the roof, high overhead. The roof itself was decorated with a massive fresco of the Sangheili, Sangheili of all castes. The idea was that the Assembly, symbolized by the pillars, supported the Sangheili. In reality, the pillars had no bearing on the structure, and it was rumored that the architect, displaying a remarkable understanding of the Sangheili hierarchy had the walls painted with depictions of Sangheili warriors in combat. It was also rumored that the Assemblymen of the time had that architect killed and hid his body in the walls before repainting them in a purple shade which matched Sangheili blood perfectly.

The Assembly itself was placed in something of a half-crater. The lower-ranking Assemblymen were placed at the crater's lip, showing that they were on the fringe of power, while the higher ranking were nearer to its epicenter, with the chair of the Assembly at the exact center. Each Assemblyman had a simplistic wooden desk from which they read or wrote documents, which their staff aides would either give them or relay to other Assemblymen. Furthering this jumble were the aides to the chair, who would attend to the Assemblymen when they wished to call a point of order or give a speech or otherwise grandstand. And naturally, all these hundreds of staff aides had to exit the half-crater and navigate the edges of the Assembly hall to get to other Assemblymen or the chair, so as not to obstruct the views of other Assemblymen. The result was a chaotic mess of staff aides rushing back and forth along the hall's fringes.

Antares made his way through this tempest, seeking a good place to observe the Assembly in action. He found it in a spot curiously absent of people, a semicircular void of activity. At its center, Antares found the reason that the staff aides avoided this place. A single Sangheili stood there, dividing his attention between the Assembly and shooting menacing looks at those staff aides who came too close. The Sangheili was a warrior, and a tremendous one at that. He stood tall, proudly wearing magnificent white armor which seemed to shine with a faint innate luminosity. Antares smiled faintly as he looked upon the warrior, and walked over to his side. Antares bowed slightly to the warrior, and the warrior returned with a deeper bow in respect to his superior.

"It is an honor, Eternal Knight Antares." The warrior spoke in hypnotizing bass tones.

"The honor is mine, Saint Knight Saladin." Antares replied with the standard honorific. Yet standard as the greetings were, there was a particular sincerity in them, a mutual respect amongst the warriors. Saladin held Antares in the highest esteem, for none embodied the ideals of the Forefathers as well, as completely as Antares. And Antares held great respect for the younger warrior, who was but one rank beneath him. His ascension had resulted not just from his prowess as a warrior, but also from his passionate commitment to all Sangheili. A fine warrior.

The two stood and watched the Assembly, mildly bored as it debated various inane issues, such as distribution of Assemblymen amongst the castes, deciding upon the proper punishments for various crimes of the worker castes. One Assemblyman ventured to explore the governance of warriors by the Assembly, but none dared support him. Not with the two highest-ranking warriors listening, and the third supposedly on the way.

"I fail to see why the Assembly requested our presence here." Antares mused. Saladin simply huffed in agreement. Antares could see the younger warrior was getting quite impatient with seeing the political wing of the Sangheili. And then, finally, as the very last item on the agenda for the meeting, an Assemblyman stepped forth "concerning a grave and solemn matter."

"Fellow Assemblymen, and the most esteemed Knights of the Sangheili." The Assemblyman took a brief moment to look in the direction of the warriors. "A most tragic event unfolded today, not long after the sun ascended to its mantle in the sky." Antares snorted at the phrasing. Speeches were fine, but in this instance, it would have been infinitely more practical to say 'after dawn'. "A hunting team of honorable Sangheili warriors," the Assemblyman curiously had no poetic honorifics to describe the warriors, "was ambushed today." The room flooded with the murmurs of the Assemblymen. More than a few carried rather smug tones. Antares looked over to see Saladin in a state of shock.

"Outrageous! They dared to keep this information from us!" Saladin looked to his superior, attempting to determine if he had known. "Antares!" The Eternal Knight shrugged apathetically. He mourned his brothers, but that the Assembly would make such a move hardly surprised him. Ever since the age of the Forefathers the Assemblymen had grappled with the warriors for power. Saladin was a great warrior, but he had yet to truly understand the machinations of power. Although Antares supposed it was perhaps better that his future successor not get caught up in the political machine.

As Saladin coped with his surprise, the chair of the Assembly, a representative of the worker caste, called for order. Slowly the din of the Assembly died out, and the Assemblyman on the floor was allowed to continue with his report.

"The team was composed of four warriors, none of rank. They were discovered around the time that the sun reached its highest position in the heavens." _In a word, noon._ Antares thought to himself. "Another team found them dead, with holes in their backs." No small amount of gasping ensued. "Adding to the circumstances, another warrior came back from the wilderness with two bodies on hand. One was a leaf dragon, of no particular consequence to this incident. To describe the other corpse, the Assembly thought it best that the warrior himself tell the tale." The Assemblyman bowed to the rest of the Assembly and returned to his seat. The chair, meanwhile, spoke.

"The High Assembly of the Sangheili recognizes the witness, a most admirable warrior of the Sangheili, Zyar Mortumee." A Sangheili who had hung in the back left corner of the room stepped forward to the central speaking position. The plain metal armor he wore indicated he was of no rank, like all other hunters, yet Antares surmised that if he could kill a leaf dragon, it was quite possible that this could change. The Eternal Knight would have to inquire as to this warrior.

"I am not entirely familiar with this Mortumee." Antares conceded to the Saint Knight. Saladin waited a few moments to respond, undoubtedly trying to recall what he knew of the warrior.

"He's a most unusual case. A descendant of workers." Antares was intrigued by this. He could not remember ever having heard of such a thing. The gap between the worker caste and warrior caste was quite wide. The warriors were born of the reproductive caste, a group of Sangheili of quite high stock. The result was that few workers were ever born with anything rivaling the combat potential of the warriors, who were the products of highly selective breeding. For this Zyar Mortumee to have jumped this gap, he truly had to be a most exceptional being. Antares would certainly have to look further into the case.

As he mulled over the matter, Zyar Mortumee stepped onto the orator's podium, and, with a simple clarity and strength, related his story to the Assembly.

"Greetings, esteemed Assemblymen. I thank you for giving me this opportunity to serve my brethren. And to the most honorable Knights of the Sangheili, I would take great pride from this tragedy should my words capture your focus.

"Shortly after dawn, I and many of my brothers went out into the wilderness to hunt. The hunt, as some of you may know, is not intended for the purposes of gathering food for other Sangheili, but for honing a warrior's skill. It is something we undertake each week. For two days and two nights, we are to remain in the wild parts of the forest, living in harmony with it. We learn to gain sustenance from it, to walk it in absolute stealth, occasionally to work in small squads, and in certain circumstances, to practice our abilities in combat. To leave the wilderness prematurely, no matter the circumstance, is a great shame upon any warrior. However, I found that in this particular instance, it was far better to sacrifice some of my honor than to allow my brothers here to be left imperiled in their ignorance of the matter.

"This morning, a couple hours after dawn, I found myself embattled with a leaf dragon. Soon after I emerged the victor, I heard an odd rustling in the undergrowth. Knowing that my brothers would not be so careless as to make such a sound, and that the creatures of the wilderness would likewise move in silence, I decided to discover the nature of the circumstance. I circled about the position as quickly and as silently as was within my natural limits, and found that the source of the disturbance was…" The warrior lingered, dreading the consequences his words could have. Many of the Assemblymen looked rather impatient at this point, having been in the hall for hours now. The shock value of four murdered warriors had apparently worn off quite quickly. So Zyar Mortumee, answering their pleas, got on with it, and uttered the fateful words. "The source of the disturbance was one of the sorcerers of the plains." Gasps followed, as the Assemblymen were not only shocked by this intrusion, but by the realization of how the dead Sangheili had met their fate. Antares checked again on Saladin, and found the Saint Knight at a rare loss for words. Antares himself was in a similar state. For centuries there had been an uneasy peace between Sangheili and the sorcerers. The Sangheili kept to their forests, and the sorcerers kept to their behemoth structures out in the open where they practiced their wizardry.

"It can't be true!" One of the Assemblymen cried out in a natural reflex. Bringing up the subject of the sorcerers was a very uneasy thing. The Sangheili had warred with them long ago, and the casualties had been appalling. All these years later, and the scars of the war were still quite prominent. No sooner had the Assemblyman made the denial that a multitude of voices rose up, some agreeing with his position and others attacking his wishful thinking. Before even a minute had passed the Assembly had devolved into a mass of bickering and shouting. The chair attempted to call for order, but the measure was nothing less than futile. Zyar Mortumee, meanwhile, stood uneasily upon the orator's podium, watching as various parts of the Assembly either assailed his character or praised his selflessness in reporting the matter.

"Saladin…" Antares muttered, his voice somehow floating over the din and reaching the Saint Knight. "The Holy Knight is on his way, correct?" Saladin nodded in affirmation. "Find him and divert him from this place." Saladin merely gave him a confused glance. "This matter is outside the jurisdiction of the Assembly. They lack the right to judge on the issue, so there is no point to us lingering here." Saladin nodded, a very pleased expression on his face. Antares could tell he was glad for the confirmation of his beliefs.

"Yet, Eternal Knight, I cannot help but be of the opinion that such a crisis demands some sort of action." Antares nodded sagely.

"Indeed. Find the Holy Knight, and bring him to the Sacred Antechamber of the Forefathers. I am convening the Arch Knights so that we might determine our course." Again Saladin nodded enthusiastically. The proud warrior bowed and exited the hall. Antares gave one last look at the Assembly, at poor Zyar trapped in the center of the storm, and rushed out of the hall, not quite as enthusiastically as Saladin. This was indeed a very grave and solemn matter. If the Arch Knights did not decide upon the proper action…

This could very well be war.


	3. Chapter II

**Thou In Faith  
**_Chapter II_

Saladin emerged from the assembly hall with a great vigor in his step. The convening of the Arch Knights was not a common phenomenon. There were meetings among various _parts_ of the Arch Knights, true, but very rarely did all dozen of the Knights gather. Perhaps this would be war? Saladin delighted at the thought. He had yet to experience the thrill of true battle, the exuberance of spilling his enemies' blood, the _triumph_ of standing on the battlefield before their broken ranks.

Yes, this could very well be war.

And the Saint Knight Saladin was nothing less than pleased.

----------------------

The Celestial Knight of Oracle was not in such good humor. Before him was a squad of infantrymen, dressed in the bland tan robes of those with no status. Why he still had to deal with such rabble was beyond him.

"So you see, my lord, we had little choice but to kill them." The squad's leader bowed down. He seemed quite confident for one who had just failed a mission for a Celestial Oracle.

"Your mission, Commander, was not to kill the forest beasts. I made _that_ quite explicit." The commander reeled back a bit before attempting to stammer out a reply.

"But, m-my lord! The Sangheili, they… they were suspicious of our presence! Had we not killed them then-"

"You would have become honorable sacrifices in my name. Instead you've failed abysmally. The forest beasts will no doubt be on their guard now."

"Yet, even had we made martyrs of ourselves, surely the Sangheili would have been just as alert to a hostile presence. At least now they don't know whether or not it's us!" The Celestial Oracle smirked. The fear on this commoner, he could sense it so easily. His eyes were widened in preposterous fashion, sweat practically rolled off his body, and his heart was pounding so hard that even from several feet away the Celestial Oracle could see each palpitation. The Celestial Oracle thought for a second that it might be wrong to enjoy such a thing, but then again, this garbage had already dared to question his wisdom, and on multiple occasions at that.

"Commander, do you know what fate has befallen the solo infantryman you sent out?"

"26-3-T? No, not at all." The commander was quite confused now, and his fear had died out some now that his master was no longer concentrating on his failure. This could turn out to be rather amusing.

"Nor do I. He has not been in contact with the rest of the temple since his dispatch. At this time, there is little choice but to presume him dead. No doubt by the forest beasts."

"Then I don't see how what we did could be of any consequence. The Sangheili already know of our incursions, surely-" The Celestial Oracle cut him off one final time.

"But commander, your decision made all the difference. Either way, the forest beasts would have known of our presence, yes. But what would they do with that knowledge? Had they killed you and your squad, we would not be a threat. But, they lost. And the forest beasts hate to lose.

"And for that matter, commander, _I _hate to lose." The Celestial Oracle looked past the commander to the six infantrymen behind him, then back at the commander. Here he allowed himself his most sadistic grin, before forcing his face to relax into an entirely apathetic expression. And the commander, the poor commander, stood there, fear once again in full effect. "Your station to whoever kills you first." Somehow, the commander's eyes shot open even wider at that.

"But-! Preposterous! My men are loyal to-" The Celestial Oracle of Tragedy had no need to cut him off this time. His men were quite surgical in the task of killing their commander. The one on the farthest left took all of a second to have his carbine at the ready, and in another fraction of a second the weapon spat out a projectile aimed at the commander's skull. Three more seconds, and the commander's body was slumped on the floor. Four rounds had entered his body, including one posthumous expression of loyalty.

"No, commander. I assure you, your men are quite loyal to me." The Celestial Oracle of Tragedy motioned for one of his aides to clean up the mess.

----------------------

Antares looked over the assembled Arch Knights. The knights were seated at a new addition to the Sacred Antechamber: a long rectangular table carved of out of an illustriously smooth crimson wood. The species of tree which the wood had originated from was considered quite sacred among the warriors. The trees could live for well over 5,000 years, and it was a very popular Sangheili myth that the table of the Arch Knights had been taken from a tree the Forefathers themselves had planted so very long ago. There was however no truth to this myth. The Arch Knights had simply forced a very popular Sangheili craftsman to do the job. The wood for the table was taken from a tree deep within the forest, and the tree had been no older than five hundred years. The Forefathers, then, outdated thewood by roughly two hundred years.

Ignoring, however, the most storied architects behind the rise of the warrior caste, there were a number of problems in the present. Each Arch Knight sat at his designated spot, chosen by rank among the Arch Knights. Two, however, were missing. The Saint Knight and Holy Knight of the Sangheili had yet to show up, which was quite troubling for Antares. He had sent out Saladin over an hour ago! The matter at hand was extremely urgent, and each second wasted waiting for the knights to show up was an ordeal for the Eternal Knight of the Sangheili. Until Saladin returned, they could not proceed in dealing with the matter, so for now they languished, indecisive on what measure to take, unsure on what method provided the best solution to this issue. They were, quite simply, vulnerable.

At that moment, surely in response to his worries, Saladin burst into the room. He slowed down to a halt as he neared Antares beside the head of the table. He was, unfortunately, alone.

"Where is the Holy Knight?" An inquiry rose up from the front of the table. The asking Knight was Virulem, eldest of all the Arch Knights, including Antares. A long scar ran across the left side of his face, an unyielding memory of the last war. Even in his age, Virulem was finest of the Arch Knights, and had learned to carry his scar in an intimidating manner as well as speak gruffly, so as to project his toughness. Yet only Antares knew that behind this was a great deal of insecurity. Virulem undoubtedly could have been the Eternal Knight in the place of Antares, but he had turned down the opportunity to ascend amongst the Arch Knights multiple times, fearing that he simply wasn't adequate. Now, as senior amongst the nine lower knights, he was the fourth highest warrior of the Sangheili, and frequently used what power he had to keep the higher knights in check. Virulem, something of a recluse, held very little power in public and rallied perhaps the least support of all Arch Knights. In the Sacred Antechamber of the Forefathers, however, he wielded enough power to make or break any given knight, including those who outranked him.

"I could not find him. As far as I can tell, he must be in the wilderness." Even with his superior conditioning, Saladin showed the signs of exhaustion, gasping for breath in between thoughts, indicating how furiously he must have searched.

"Then we shall not commence." Antares stated coolly. "It was your task to find the Holy Knight and bring him here. This meeting cannot hold any weight unless all the Arch Knights are present."

"But, if he is in the wilderness, it could take hours on end to find him!" Saladin protested. "If this meeting should hold any weight, we have to act quickly." Antares looked at the nine seated Arch Knights, and observed that there seemed to be a consensus with Saladin's opinion.

"Arch Knight Virulem?" The Arch Knight closed his eyes in pensive thought. He undoubtedly already knew what he was going to say, but one of his subtler quirks was an apparent need to ensure people that everything he did was done with great deliberation.

"I do not like to act in haste, yet the circumstances leave us with little choice." Antares sighed. He was defeated on the matter.

"Very well then. I am sure you all know of the crisis at hand, so let us not waste what little time we have reviewing the circumstances. Instead, let us discuss what to do now. What shall the warriors do?"

"It would seem infinitely clear to me…" Began an absurdly calm and serene voice before a long pause. This was the Arch Knight Adhara. He was lowest ranking of the Arch Knights, but had managed to gain respect, mostly due to his affiliation with Antares. Adhara was one of the few warriors Antares had personally trained, and Antares viewed him as something of a protégé. Still, he had a tendency towards simply imitating Antares as opposed to truly sharing his beliefs, which was one of the reasons Antares had made no attempts to elevate Adhara to higher status. "We must simply view this as something of a tragedy, and move on. Surely the lives of four Sangheili are not cause for war."

"Careful what you say, young Adhara," Virulem cautioned. "To disregard the life of just one warrior is a blatant sign of contempt towards the Creed of the Forefathers." Yet another reason Antares had not helped Adhara was that Virulem held him in contempt.

"I apologize if I do not seem to care for the lives of our fellow warriors-"

"Your brothers." Virulem corrected him with the proper term for one's fellow warriors.

"Indeed. I do not disregard the lives of my brothers. I simply see no reason for us to risk the lives of more of our brothers in some blind act of vengeance." Adhara glanced nervously at Virulem. The elder knight accepted this argument. Saladin, however, was not so tolerant of such forgiveness.

"So you would suggest we do nothing? That we simply allow them to take the lives of our brothers? The sorcerers of the plains do not wander into the forest by accident. They certainly don't wander this deep into the forest. This was hostility on their part." The Saint Knight spoke with a mix of disbelief towards Adhara's statement and passion towards his own. The effect could have been a potent mix, had not another Arch Knight immediately spoken up.

"While your point is certainly valid, I cannot agree with your intent, Saladin." Midgard. Next to Virulem, he was the lower knight of greatest consequence. He served as something of a generational bridge among the Arch Knights. He was not as young as most of them, nor was he as old as Virulem and Antares. His viewpoint tended to be entirely unique, and this independence carried favor with the other Arch Knights.

"And what intent do you see, Arch Knight Midgard?"

"That of a warmonger, Saint Knight." Saladin had to restrain himself. Insolence! To make such an open statement to the Saint Knight! Then again, this behavior _was_ what had allowed him to reach such influence. Of course, Saladin had plenty of influence himself. He regained his composure and chuckled lightly.

"Warmonger? Not at all, Arch Knight Midgard. I simply don't choose to be ignorant when war is at my front door. _They_ came _here_ with weaponry and _killed_ our brothers. Retaliation of some sort is demanded by the Forefathers." And now Virulem again.

"But it does not have to be war, Saladin. The Forefathers do not demand blood. Especially not in such a foolish manner." Virulem exhaled heavily, quite stressed by the matter. He was a naturally aggressive warrior, but he held no love for war. Not anymore. "It is troubling that the plains sorcerers came this deep into our forest. Yet it was a minor excursion, and only lightly armed. To claim this as an act of war would be rash, impulsive. We'd merely spill more or our brothers' blood."

"Then what do you suggest we do, Arch Knight Virulem?" The knight again closed his eyes in thought. From the looks of it, Antares was willing to bet the knight had no clue what to say this time.

"I do not know. I cannot give all the answers, Saint Knight Saladin."

"Yet you somehow know which ones are wrong? Can we truly trust your opinion on this matter, Virulem? Or are you still too badly scarred by the last war?" And now Saladin was in dangerous territory. To mock Virulem, especially in such distaste, was not a gambit that paid off frequently. Graciously, Virulem dismissed the remarks.

"You must understand, Saladin, that war is not a game. I would rather mourn four brothers killed and not avenged as opposed to four thousand brothers slaughtered by our inability to be flexible. If war comes to us, so be it. But war is not yet here, and I for one shall do nothing to entice it." Saladin had no response to that, and simply growled in minor frustration. Virulem was adamant on the matter, and he was not gaining support from anyone. Antares simply stood silent, observing the debating of his fellow Arch Knights. He found himself much too conflicted to take any firm stance on the matter. He, like Virulem, had been in the last war of the Sangheili. They were in fact the only Arch Knights to have been in a war, which was in part what made the matter so difficult. The other Arch Knights had not known war, and lacked knowledge of its horrible results. On the other hand, the last war had been a most terrible affair for the Sangheili, perhaps the most brutal conflict they had known in their history. It was indeed possible that he and Virulem were still scarred too badly by the last war, and were paralyzed now by fear. What was there to do? Antares closed his eyes, chased away the real world. What was he to do? Could he sacrifice his brothers in war? Could he sacrifice his brothers to inaction? For the first time in his life, Antares could not decide. So he simply closed his eyes, and let the world go away.

----------------------

"Antares." The comfortingly resolved tones of Saladin brought him back from his peaceful oblivion. He opened his eyes to see the Saint Knight. The room was cleared of the Arch Knights. After deliberating for an hour in vain, seeking to find the proper action, they had decided to retire for the night, and come back tomorrow, hoping that perhaps then they might have more clarity on the issue. If nothing else, the Holy Knight would no doubt be back by then, and he could perhaps add a new perspective to the matter. "We must do something."

"I know, Saladin. The question is, what?" The Saint Knight, apparently, had found the answer where Antares had not.

"We do not need necessarily engage in war. We can still avenge our fallen brothers without risking any further death." Antares laughed at such a notion.

"And how would you suggest going about that?"

"A raid." Antares was taken aback by this.

"That is an act of war, Saladin! Were we-"

"Not war." The powerful voice of the Saint Knight interrupted him. "Simply a warning to keep away from the forest. We shall take only as many lives as they have. The message will be most clear." Preposterous as the rational part of Antares found the idea, something in the Saint Knight's voice compelled him to agree. There was such confidence there, that Antares could not help but believe that Saladin knew what he was doing. Still…

"I cannot condone such an act. Not when the Arch Knights have not approved it."

"If we wait for the rest of the Arch Knights to decide we'll be dead!" Now there was a pleading, urging tone in his voice. And Antares, oh how we wanted to comply! But…

"You shall not use me to circumvent the will of the Arch Knights, Saladin. Do not think I will allow you to undermine the authority of the Forefathers." Saladin hung his head in disappointment. There was something there. It was not that he seemed eager to fight. It seemed more that he genuinely believed that the opportunity was slipping. Saladin was willing to acquiesce though. With a solemn step he began to skulk out of the Sacred Antechamber. Looking at Saladin, Antares saw the golden inscriptions in the back of his luminous white armor. 'Strength is granted only to serve the Weak.' Looking outside, Antares saw the twilight sky. It was beginning to get quite dark. "Yet, Saladin…" Antares amended his statement. Saladin turned about, his attention piqued by the Eternal Knight. Antares looked at Saladin's torso. As opposed to a gap between his armor plates, chains ran the length, symbolizing his duty to those less powerful than Saladin. He had risen so quickly, so easily. Partly because he was passionate, and partly because he was strong. Mostly, he was a rarity among even the warriors, a gem among the Sangheili. He was motivated, above all else, by the urge to do what he believed was right for all Sangheili. Were the rest of the Arch Knights similarly motivated? Yes, but hardly to the same degree, to the same persistence as Saladin. Antares could not agree with him, but he hardly knew what was right. "You _are_ the Saint Knight. Many warriors lie at your disposal, regardless of whether I, or the Arch Knights, like it. I will not condone your actions. But it is hardly in my power to control your actions."

At that, Saladin gave a knowing nod, and was off. What was to ensue, Antares did not know.


End file.
